Michael

As I reflected on what I have blurbed about myself in the past, I felt dissatisfied. Somehow my attempts at self-promotion ring hollow at some level. Sure, I'd like to write something that tickles your fancy and stimulates you to feel that "gee that guy seems pretty damn cool." But somehow it seems that my very intention of getting you to like me underlies the hollowness that is the source of my dissatisfaction - like a bad salesman trying too hard, or some poor fool trying to argue a girl into liking him. Then I get to thinking about how little can actually be conveyed about myself through the mere medium of words. After all, you'd know me so much more deeply after mere moments of interchange with me in the flesh. And what if I could write something that somehow produces the excitement, attraction, fascination, desire, and awe and that I would enjoy you feeling towards me? Would it feel empty because I would know how easily swayed by mere words you were? Would I genuinely respect and appreciate you - or merely dismiss your gushing as that of just another sycophant? And how could you know that what I express here truly represents me? At worst, I may be some crazy deceitful sociopath just having my way with you. At best, my subconscious would certainly attempt to make me seem to you better than I seem to myself in my moments of low self-esteem. So it seems now that my attempts to get you to appreciate my charm, my wit, my creativity, my brilliance, and general all-around badassness are doomed to failure behind the veil of this computer screen before I even begin. So I think I'll just let go of that. Now that I've let go I discover deep inside, like you, I want to open up and be known and to know others as they really are - in the naked beauty of our authentic yet flawed selves.